Home, the Long Way Round
by Dragoncello
Summary: When Harry and Hermione's trip to Godric's Hollow ends in tragedy, the Boy-Who-Lived wakes up in an unfamiliar world where Voldemort is more dangerous than ever before. How far will Harry go to bring the war to an end and how much must his friends sacrifice to bring him home? Set during DH.
1. The Close

"He's coming! Hermione, he's coming!"

As he yelled the snake fell, hissing wildly. Everything was chaos: It smashed shelves from the wall, and splintered china flew everywhere as Harry jumped over the bed and seized the dark shape he knew to be Hermione.

She shrieked with pain as he pulled her back across the bed: The snake reared again, but Harry knew that worse than the snake was coming, was perhaps already at the gate.

The snake lunged as he took a running leap, dragging Hermione with him; as it struck, Hermione screamed, "Confringo!" and her spell flew around the room, exploding the wardrobe mirror and ricocheting back at them, bouncing from floor to ceiling; Harry felt the heat of it sear the back of his hand. Glass cut his cheek as, pulling Hermione with him, he leapt from bed to broken dressing table and then straight out of the smashed window into nothingness, her scream reverberating through the night as the snake coiled once more around his leg and her hand was ripped violently from his grip.

Then down, down, down to the garden below. Landing painfully on his back, he could feel the snake already ravelling its body around his chest, the wind knocked out of him from the fall. Then it began to squeeze and panic coursed through Harry's veins, because he couldn't feel that familiar piece of wood between his fingers. He had nothing, was alone and vulnerable, could do no more than squirm where he lay as the snake's grip strengthened. His scar was close to bursting open on his forehead and his eyes beginning to roll back into his head from lack of oxygen.

 _'_ _I have him, master'_ hissed Nagini.

He saw himself like this from Tom's eyes as he walked slowly towards Harry's broken form. He could feel the other man's triumph, could appreciate the irony that it would end here as it had started – except there was no one to die for him now and for that, at least, he was grateful. Hermione was alive, alone somewhere but she would surely find Ron and they would carry on without him. They had to. The prophecy could not be true because if it was, Harry had failed more than his friends in death.

'Harry Potter' said a high, cold voice somewhere above his head and Harry raised his eyes to meet Voldemort's as he had that night in the graveyard.

'And without a wand'.

Harry struggled uselessly, his teeth gritted together with the effort.

'I want to see you die as yourself – Revelio Polutious!' Harry could feel his features realigning into his own form, his limbs lengthening and distorting in Nagini's grasp.

'It's fitting that it should end here. In fact, you would have done better to die as a baby, Harry. I would have been satisfied with killing the Potters then. But now? A single death will not pay for the inconvenience you have caused me. Crucio!'

Blood red agony, searing through every cell and piercing every inch of skin. God, make it stop. It did, eventually, but relief came in the form of those red eyes studying him calmly.

'I'll find every last person who ever cared for you. And I'll kill them too'.

Harry lunged blindly for Voldemort's wand but his body was shaking with the after-effects of the curse and he fell back limply to the ground. The locket was beating wildly against his shirt and he was sure if not for the snake, that Voldemort would see it too. Let it get lost beneath the snow, let it burn with his body… Maybe his friends would come back for it, maybe it hadn't all been a waste, himself and Regulus both sacrificed and Tom never the wiser.

'There will always be someone, Tom' gasped Harry as the snake tightened its hold on him. 'You're afraid to die. But we've got a reason to live and I've found that it's a powerful motivator'-

Another Cruciatus tore through him but Harry tried to keep eye contact through the white hot pain. He wanted to die with his eyes wide open.

'I suppose you think it's love' laughed Voldemort humourlessly. 'Dumbledore's oldest lie. Does it make you strong – to know that everyone you claim to love will be tortured, will leave this earth begging for death? You are weak, boy, and you will die knowing that you did nothing but cause them misery'.

Harry could see it coming, could see that flash of green light he'd dreamed about as a child building from deep within Voldemort's red eyes. And in the last moment he drew on every ounce of magic inside his body, pulled it from his fingertips, willed so desperately to apparate to another forgotten wood, to join Hermione, just one more escape, one last time…

'Avada Kedavra!'

He thought he heard a woman's scream, was it his mother's? Then the curse, blinding, as it crashed into his chest and another heartbeat screamed in agony. Was Tom yelling too? All dissolved into green, unforgiving light and its energy swept him up into fire. Like the floo, that emerald fire, bidding him into that great nothingness once more.


	2. A Christmas Tale

Christmas Eve at the Burrow used to be a joyful affair. Molly remembered it now as she warmed a pot of cocoa on the stove; Ginny in her nightgown trying to guess her presents from their wrappings underneath the tree, Fred and George charming the Christmas decorations to sing spontaneous carols loudly into the ears of passers-by. Percy would be curled up by the fire with a book, munching on her gingerbread biscuits, Charlie suggesting a midnight game of three-aside Quidditch in the garden.

She swallowed a sob as she looked at her children now, wanting so much to pull them back into the safety and happiness of those years. So many people had been killed or had gone missing since You-Know-Who had taken over the Ministry and they were all aware that this year might be the last for any of them.

'I think it's a law that you're not allowed to look that sad while making hot chocolate' said Arthur softly into her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist.

'Yeah, mum, you'll get tears in it' scolded George from his place at the kitchen table where he was decorating the Christmas cake with his twin. Both were dressed magnificently in bright red dressing gowns with garish green stripes across them.

'What do you say, Fred? I've done Santa's sleigh of hippogriffs in icing and a striking portrait of Peeves pelting dungbombs at the Slytherins, but there's still this space in the middle'.

'I don't know, Georgie. Do we really want dungbombs even implied on a cake? I've gone with Grawp in an elf costume' he said happily, moving over his icing covered sleeve to reveal his side of the dessert.

'Oh for god's sake, boys' snapped Mrs. Weasley, pushing Arthur gently away from the whipped cream. 'You do realise that we have Bill and Fleur coming over tomorrow, not to mention Remus and Tonks? The baby's well on its way so I'll have no pranks sending her into shock'-

'Come on, mum' complained Fred. 'Tonks is an experienced Auror, I doubt she'll finally be taken down by indecent cake art'.

Ginny and Charlie had followed the smell of chocolate into the kitchen, where their mother was ladling it out into mugs.

'Still no word then?' asked Ginny with frustration, as they all sat down at the table and battled for the remaining marshmallows. 'I was sure Ron would send us a card or something, just to let us know he's alive'.

'Don't joke about that, Ginny' chided her father with an anxious look at his wife. He had bags under his eyes from many sleepless nights and was determined to have some semblance of a normal Christmas. 'Of course he's alive. As long as the three of them are together, they'll look out for one another. I'm sure they're wishing us a happy Christmas, wherever they are'.

'It's not really Ron she's worried about, dad' whispered George conspiratorially. 'We all know that there's a black-haired public enemy out there who young Ginny is wishing for this Christmas'-

'Shut up, George' hissed Ginny across the table. 'I swear, if you even start'-

'Wait, what's this now?' asked Charlie with a suspicious look at his baby sister. 'Don't tell me you're off with another boy'-

'Another what?' screeched their mother. 'Exactly how many boyfriends do you have, young lady?'

'Absolutely none, mum, not that it's any of their business' she glared at her three brothers menacingly. 'In case you haven't noticed I'm not off with anyone, am I, I'm stuck writing anti-Muggle essays while everyone else is out there risking their lives'.

The table stewed in sadness for a few moments before Charlie looked back at his sister with a challenging look.

'Did it have to be Undesirable No. 1, though, Gin? As if we're not already in danger enough as it is.'

'That's _Desirable_ No. 1 to Ginny'-

'Fred!'

Just then three loud thumps at the door interrupted whatever hex Ginny had been about to send her brother's way. It startled the lot of them, who had grown used to the lack of visitors since the wards had been put in place last summer.

'It has to be someone who's already had access' whispered Molly nervously to her husband. Arthur stood up and considered the door carefully before stepping closer with his wand aloft.

'Who are you and what business do you have here?' he asked loudly.

'It's me, it's Hermione. Please, Mr. Weasley, I…I don't know where else to go' answered a shaky voice from the other side of the door. The others gasped and Mrs. Weasley looked ready to fling the door wide open but her husband beckoned her away impatiently.

'I'm sorry, Hermione, but we need proof that it's really you'.

'I can't think, I...'

'Hermione, I supposedly told Romilda Vane that Ron had a tattoo. What was it of?' asked Ginny calmly, somehow certain that it was her friend behind the door.

'A… a pygmy puff' croaked Hermione, caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

Mr. Weasley looked to Ginny for confirmation and she nodded curtly. Without further ado, he swung the door open to find a bedraggled looking, small woman, who looked to be in her late fourties.

'My you've changed, Hermione' deadpanned George before walking over to give her a hug. Hermione, tears streaming down her face, wanted to fold into that hug and forget the reality of their situation but she needed to tell someone, needed someone to make sense of the scene she'd witnessed because although her brain was moving sluggishly, it was getting more and more difficult to deny what had happened.

'I'm sorry, I know it's not safe, I just. **.**. I need to see Ron' pressed Hermione, stepping around George as if expecting to find him hiding behind a cabinet.

'What do you mean – he's not with you?' asked Ginny, countless possibilities, all more horrifying than the last, racing through her mind.

'He left – he – they had a fight. He has to be with you, he wouldn't go anywhere else' she cried, hysteria creeping into her voice as she looked from face to face for answers.

'Sit down and take a breath, dear' suggested Mrs. Weasley, guiding her into a chair at the top of the table and placing a steaming mug of hot chocolate between her hands. 'Start from the beginning and we'll find Ron' she assured her, a need to look after the shaken girl overriding the panic she felt at the mention of her youngest son.

'He left a few weeks ago. H-harry and I went to Godric's hollow to look for… for something we thought Dumbledore might have hidden there. And we followed Bathilda Bagshot into her house, only...she'd been dead for a while. She was possessed, by V-Voldemort's snake.' Here she looked up into Mrs. Weasley's stricken eyes, as if begging her to understand their terrible mistake.

'Where's Harry, Hermione?' asked Ginny in a low voice. When Hermione sobbed into her hands instead of answering, Ginny bent down closer to her chair. 'Where is he?' she asked, loudly now, panic clouding her vision. Hermione had never shied away from a difficult question.

'The s-snake attacked him. I tried to help and h-he said You-Know-Who was c-c-coming. We jumped out of the window to apparate but his fingers slipped'-

'But Harry can apparate well enough' Ginny insisted as from the corner of her eye she saw her parents share a grief-stricken look. 'Even if he was a second later than you, he got away, he's just out there looking for you'-

'I went back' spluttered Hermione helplessly. 'I saw them – You-Know-Who must have put up a ward. I couldn't get through. I tried every spell I could think of'. She bent down suddenly to her bag to pull something out and held it tightly in her hands. Ginny could see the snapped wood, the end of what she knew to be phoenix feather holding their ends together delicately. She stood up suddenly and turned away to the other end of the kitchen. She knew that what she was thinking wasn't right, couldn't be the truth and she wanted Harry to explain it himself.

'He d-d-didn't even have a w-wand' gasped Hermione, holding it up for them to see. 'I- I don't know what…'

Mrs. Weasley grabbed Hermione with a heartbroken sound, engulfing her into her arms as they both burst into tears.

'You're wrong' said Ginny angrily, to no effect. 'Would you stop crying so we can go find Harry?' she practically yelled at the pair of them, looking towards her brothers who had gone pale and limp in their chairs.

'Ginny' whispered her dad softly, making a move as if to put his arms around her but she backed away sharply.

'No, don't you see?' she turned to Charlie who looked back at her with pity. 'This is Harry we're talking about, he survives this. He's probably off worried sick about you right now, Hermione'.

'It was the Avada Kedavra, I s-s-saw it hit him' moaned Hermione, pushing away Mrs. Weasley to clutch at her sides as if in pain. Ginny gaped at them all as George make a choking sound and buried his hands in his hair, dropping his elbows to the table.

'But he's survived that before' –

'Can't you see you're not helping? You're upsetting them' said Fred angrily.

Then there was another thump at the door followed by an urgent voice:

'It's me, Remus Lupin. I told you, Arthur, that Tonks is due on the twenty second of April. We have no time; you have to move to Shell Cottage now, it's not safe' –

Lupin faltered as Mr. Weasley opened the door to let him in, momentarily thrown by the stony faces of the family in front of him. 'Who is this?' he demanded, pointing at a worn looking Hermione, whose polyjuice potion still hadn't worn off.

'We'll explain later' said Mr. Weasley, trying to shake off the deep hopelessness that had settled in him once he'd realised the implications of Hermione's visit. He had learned that in war there was a time for grief and a time for action and Remus' dishevelled appearance left him in no doubt that they were in the midst of the latter. 'Now what's going on?'

'We've had a tip that they're coming for you. Something's happened and Voldemort seems to have decided to target anyone connected to Harry. Unfortunately, your family is at the top of that list.'

He rushed into the centre of the room and pulled an old suede cap from his coat pocket which he placed at the centre of the table.

'This portkey will take us straight to Shell Cottage. Hagrid and the others should be there already.' He looked around at a room of deadened eyes. 'This is no time to move slowly, your lives are on the line!' he shouted as they all stood up hastily to put a finger on the cap.

'Hermione, now' urged Mr. Weasley, and it was with chilling apathy that she eventually stood up to join the others as the cap glowed blue.


	3. Cold Awakening

When the fire faded, Harry found that death was very similar to life. The cold ground beneath his back felt the same, as did the aching of his body from the fall. The light was different, the house still in his eye line and his sight clouded by the darkness of the night, but the sky – there was a haze, a heightened shadow indistinguishable from blackness and yet he could feel it, it choked him. Voldemort had disappeared: a definite advantage for death, then.

'There's someone out here!' whispered a tense voice somewhere to the right of him.

'Is he marked?'

A body bent down low in the grass beside him and Harry instinctively grabbed at it in the dark. Maybe there would be a wand he could use as apparating didn't seem altogether out of the question now. He pulled at the person's shirt and tried to tackle their arm to the frosty ground but his strength left him just as the other man got over his shock and tore his arm out of Harry's grip.

'He just attacked me!'

'Just check so we can get back. There's not enough cover out here, the snow's too bright.'

A fumbling hand pulled his shirt down to his heart and a flashlight shone down onto his chest as Harry lashed out with his fist. The man's face was momentarily illuminated as he made contact with the side of his mouth.

'Bloody hell, can you help me out over here? He just split my lip'.

Another grumble and another, larger man held down his left arm while the other inspected his chest again. 'No mark, we should get him inside. But he's got some blackened locket on his chest, it looks like it's been welded to the skin' –

Harry groaned in pain, as the man tried to peel the locket from him, taking a layer of skin away with it.

'We'll get him first aid back at camp, but let's get out of here first' said the one pushing his arm painfully into the snow. 'I don't like this. Someone had to have seen the explosion.'

They hauled Harry to his feet and he cried out as his leg collapsed in on itself. As they started to drag him over to the gate between them, a wave of dizziness swept over him and then settled somewhere in his chest but Harry was beginning to process what was happening and more importantly, what had not happened. The two men certainly didn't seem to be planning his demise any time soon and Death Eaters didn't tend to take a fist to the mouth quite as magnanimously as this man had. They didn't even appear to have wands – were these men Muggles?

'If I said the word Muggle, what would you think?' he tried, his head lolling tiredly on his chest as they scraped past the half open gate and out into the street.

'I'd say this isn't the time for word association, unless you're in the mood to be brutally killed by some Death Eaters?' muttered the larger man with obvious irritation. 'Have you got a weapon?'

'A weapon' repeated Harry blankly. 'I think I lost my wand, or my friend took it when she apparated. Did you see what happened?' he asked them, surprised when they gave each other a very odd look and didn't answer him but continued shuffling along down towards the end of the village in silence.

'Look, I appreciate that you're trying to help but I need to find my friend. Besides, you really don't want to be near me, especially out in the open like this, not unless you want a visit from Voldem-'

A hard slap across the face rang unexpectedly in his hears and Harry looked up into the face of the taller man, who had moved quickly to push Harry roughly against the wall.

'What the hell are you trying to do?' he yelled at Harry furiously and it was only in a wayward beam of the other man's flashlight that he spotted the silver knife pointed threateningly at his own throat. He looked back into that steely gaze, trying to find his bearings, not at all sure if he was safer with them as he would have been alone, injured and wandless.

The smaller man glanced nervously up and down the street then put a hand on his friend's shoulder. 'Ben, mate, he probably has a concussion, doesn't know what he's saying. He's already mentioned wands and apparition'.

The man, Ben as he now knew, searched Harry's face for something, the knife held tightly in his hand. 'I don't know who you are but if you want to get out of here alive, then do yourself a favour and don't say that name again'.

Harry looked back at him, confused beyond belief. 'You don't recognise me, do you?'

'Should we?' asked his friend, looking unimpressed as he returned to scanning the street.

'Unfortunately, yeah, I'm Harry Po-'

The man's fist rammed into his jaw sharply and Harry saw stars. The back of his head had been pummelled into the brick behind him from the force of the punch and there was that miserable darkness again, enveloping his bloodied body.

When the lights came back on, it took Harry a few moments to remember what had happened to him since their disastrous journey to Godric's Hollow and even then, he saw his encounter with Voldemort as if through the lens of a dream. He was comfortable, he noticed, perhaps back at the tent, Hermione drinking hot tea to stay awake on guard outside. Then he felt the habitual flappings of guilt because he felt certain that his sleep had been a long one and that Hermione would be exhausted. Why had he tried so desperately to convince her that it was a good idea, that his parents' home town could hold anything for him but more death and destruction? It had been a foolish idea, at best sentimental and at worst fatefully selfish.

'Are you awake?' asked a voice, and so he was, any mistaken comfort driven out by his well attuned survival instincts. He lunged blindly for anything on the bedside table with which to defend himself, coming up short with just a clock radio. Nevertheless, he held it up to face a young man with light brown hair and a slightly rounded face who had stood up from his chair fearfully at Harry's movement.

'I'm not dangerous' he said, holding his hands out in front of him to illustrate the point. 'I'm sorry, I just saw that your breathing pattern changed and I guess I was impatient. I've been sitting here for twelve hours, you see and, eh…, you've just sort of been lying there for a really long time. My name's Ted' he said very quickly, moving a hand forward as if to shake Harry's hand.

Harry ignored it in favour of gaping at the other man. Harry recognised the face which had shone out at him in the ghostly beam of a flashlight but that memory was tainted with pain and bewilderment as well as an inexplicable sense of wrongness that he felt hanging about him even now.

'Am I...dead or something?' he asked eventually, tracking the other man's reaction carefully as he continued to hold the clock protectively near his face. His leg felt a lot better, presumably wrapped tightly in bandages under the sheet. The room looked like a hospital, but smaller and more modern looking than the large hall of the Hogwarts infirmary, with electric lights overhead replacing windows of any kind.

'No. Well you're not dead, but the 'or something' is debatable, I suppose' answered Ted, folding his arms across his chest and staring openly at Harry. His eyes flickered momentarily to his scar, as Harry was used to, but then lingered on his face for quite a long time as if looking for answers that Harry did not feel up to accommodating any time soon.

'You didn't know who I was yesterday' considered Harry. 'But you do now'.

'We do indeed'.

'Who's we, then?' asked Harry. 'Because I don' think you're with the Order but you're definitely not like any Death Eater I've ever met. You use Muggle technology, you attack me randomly and without any reason I can come up with and then try and come off as a friend.'

Ted's face was paling as he looked back at Harry, whose anger was increasing with every unanswered question.

'You've healed my injuries but without using magic. Are you trying to keep me here? Because I have no wand, probably can't walk and still don't know how I just walked away from another killing curse but I'll still fight to get out of here with all the energy I have left' –

He had risen quickly from the bed, happy to find that he was still in his own clothes. Fighting his wooziness, he started staggering on his injured leg towards the metal door on the far right of the room when it opened suddenly and he froze.

He stared at the new arrival for only a moment and then rubbed his hand over his forehead with frustration, waiting for his eyes to catch up with his ability to reason.

'My God, it's really you' gasped the man who was gaping at Harry from the doorway. He was dressed in casual Muggle clothes, as well as the unmistakeable face of an older Neville Longbottom.

'What the hell is this?' demanded Harry, looking from Ted to a remarkable lookalike of his friend. As far as he knew, polyjuice could not be altered to manipulate age. The man in front of him could be in his fourties, yet he held more than just similar features to Neville. Merlin, he was even smiling the same way that Neville smiled. A brilliant metamorphagus would be capable of the replication – but to what end?

'I don't understand – how – do we even know it's him for sure?' he asked Ted, his eyes never leaving Harry's.

'He just woke up, and you'd be better at testing that than me, Neville'.

Harry's eyes flashed at the use of the name, part of him still hoping that the man in front of him was an absurdly similar uncle of Neville's.

'Harry, it really is me' he said gently, his eyes trying to impress something upon Harry that he had yet to understand.

'You're telling me that you're Neville?' he clarified sceptically, looking between the two of them. 'Care to explain the aging potion or'-

'Harry, why don't you take a seat and we'll explain everything' suggested Neville's clone nervously. 'Well not explain, exactly, I mean we've got no clue'-

'Neville' interrupted Ted with a worried look at Harry.

'Where's my wand?' Harry asked suspiciously.

'You didn't have one' said Neville, looking confused.

'Well then tell me something only Neville would know so I won't worry you're about to attack me again for no reason' he insisted.

'Alright' he agreed. 'Er… what would only I remember? In first year, Malfoy put a leg-locker jinx on me and you gave me a Chocolate frog and told me I was worth twelve of Malfoy' smiled Neville faintly.

Harry had a vague recollection of this and couldn't imagine anybody looking to harm him remembering that particular episode. Harry relaxed slightly and sat back down on the bed he had come from, feeling dead on his feet.

'Go on then' he suggested, while they fidgeted at the foot of his bed. 'Explain away'.

'Maybe you could tell us the last thing you remember' said Neville.

'But don't say You-Know-Who's name again!' warned Ted suddenly. 'There's a taboo on his name, it alerts Death Eaters to the location of whoever says it'.

'So that's why' realised Harry, remembering the knife held so closely that it had surely left a scar on his throat. 'Why the shiner, though?' he asked Ted, who had the courtesy to look apologetic.

'Your name's taboo as well'.

'You're joking' gasped Harry.

'Well Harry's fine, it's just when you put the two names together' said Neville as Harry considered the possible consequences of having your own name outlawed.

'Harry, would you mind…'

'Oh right. The last thing I can remember was being murdered by Vol – You-Know-Who' Harry caught himself just in time, 'at Godric's Hollow. 'I swear the killing curse hit me in the chest and then the green light sort of… surrounded me. Then I woke up again to Ted and the other one hovering over me'.

Harry could see shock in both pairs of eyes watching him, but neither seemed capable of explaining what had happened.

'Neville, what's going on?' asked Harry desperately. 'Why do you look the way you do, where are we?' They both seemed unsure of what to say and Harry felt the last of his patience slip. 'Fine, if you want to keep me in the dark, I'll just be on my way. But at least tell me you know where Hermione is'.

'Harry' choked Neville, pity in his eyes now. 'I'm so sorry to have to tell you this. But you've time travelled. It's been… you've been missing for twenty-four years'.

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief as he waited for their tense expressions to break out into laughter.

'Why would you say something like that?' he asked them accusingly when none seemed pending.

'It's true' replied Neville. 'You disappeared that night with Hermione at Godric's Hollow. You-Know-Who announced your death'.

'No, that's impossible' denied Harry. 'You can't expect me to believe that, how would it even work?'

'We have no idea how it happened, but it did' added Ted who was now looking at Harry with something akin to awe. 'We all thought he'd killed you, that the prophecy' –

'Not now' interrupted Neville with a stern glance at the younger man. 'Merlin, Harry, I have no idea how it happened. You survived the killing curse once before, maybe you're immune or something'.

'That wasn't me, that was my mother' snapped Harry. 'She saved me. But I was alone this time, I…' Harry felt a chill go through his heart as he read the truth of their story on their faces. He had felt it, hadn't he? A sense of something not being quite right ever since he'd woken up, as if he didn't quite belong here…

'The locket' remembered Harry, grasping pointlessly at his chest which now displayed a blackened layer of skin where the Horcux had been lying under his shirt.

'Oh, I've got that here' said Ted, pulling the locket from his jacket pocket and handing it over to Harry's outstretched hands. Harry stared at it for a few seconds as if waiting for that familiar beating to commence but it just lay there, scorched and harmless, like any old necklace.

'It was stuck on tight, you'll have a nasty scar, I'm afraid…' Ted was saying but Harry wasn't listening. He'd been hit, had heard the scream of the locket, had been apparating away and then the flames –

'Where's Hermione?' he asked finally, letting the destroyed Horcrux fall limply from his fingers to the bed. 'If this is the future, let me talk to Hermione'.

Harry didn't like the look he was getting from Neville, not one bit.

'I'm sorry, Harry' said Neville quietly. 'But she's dead'.


	4. The Gathering

Bill and Fleur were already handing round cups of tea to Tonks, Neville, Luna and Hagrid (although his was in the water tumbler) by the time they materialised in Shell Cottage's living room. Ginny couldn't bring herself to look at them, settling for staring blankly out of the window at the snowy seascape, wondering if Harry was out there in the cold.

'Evenin' Molly, Arthur' greeted Hagrid with a raised tumbler.

'Remus' smiled Tonks with relief, putting her cup down haphazardly on a pile of books and running over to hug her husband. 'Thank Merlin you're all alright'.

'That's everyone, I think' said Bill. 'Harry's relatives are still in hiding with Diggle and I doubt the Death Eaters would bother going after anyone else from Hogwarts during the holidays'.

'Are you sure they'd care...about me and Luna, I mean?' asked Neville doubtfully. 'He's way closer to Ron and Hermione'.

'Harry says we're his friends' said Luna dreamily as she sipped her tea. 'And Harry never lies, unless it's to be kind'.

'You two were also seen by a dozen Death Eaters at the Ministry and we're not taking any chances' said Remus, looking more than usually run down. 'We've heard You-Know-Who is planning to go on a rampage, although why now is anybody's guess' he explained to Molly and Arthur. 'Hermione, maybe you could fill us in?'

Everyone turned to the middle-aged woman in surprise, but Hermione, while no longer crying, was staring intently at her shoes.

'Ermione, 'eet is you?' gasped Fleur.

'Polyjuice, I expect' said Arthur softly, squeezing his wife's hand.

'Wait, so Harry's alone?' asked Bill worriedly. 'When did that happen?'

'You knew that Ron left him?' accused Ginny, turning around sharply to glare at her older brother. 'Why wouldn't you tell us?'

'He was ashamed, I think' said Bill, looking uncomfortable. 'He was hoping he'd find them again and that' –

Bill's explanation was cut short as the front door flew open. Ron barged in, his jacket covered in snow, with a backpack over his shoulder.

'It brought me to the Burrow!' he spluttered, looking flushed. 'I looked everywhere, but this stupid thing is useless – what is everyone doing here?'

Before anybody could answer him, Hermione - seemingly out of her stupor – rushed over to him, pulled his bag from his arm and started violently whacking his head with it.

'Oof – get off – who the bloody hell is this?!' yelled Ron in surprise.

'You – complete – prat – you left us! I stood there – in the rain – and I _begged_ you – not to –'

As Hermione was shouting at him, she felt herself grow taller and her facial features begin to distort. Ron stood frozen in shock as the polyjuice began to wear off, holding her fists back effortlessly once she had abandoned the bag to the floor.

'I had – to stand there' she gasped, tears now flowing freely down her face and the strength of her punches faltering. 'When he – I couldn't _do_ anything'. Ron pulled her into a bone-breaking hug and she collapsed into his chest, clinging onto him for dear life as she cried.

Ginny turned away in disgust from her brother and continued her appraisal of the garden as the others looked questioningly amongst each other.

'Does this mean that Harry's alone?' Remus asked the rest of the Weasleys, with a wary glance at Hermione. His worry increased when Molly burst into tears and fell into Arthur's embrace in a similar fashion.

'They think he's dead' said Ginny tonelessly. 'They think You-Know-Who killed him'. There were a handful of gasps behind her back and the unmistakeable rumble of Hagrid getting to his feet.

'Ye' can't mean...'

'There has to be some kind of mistake'.

'Has he been captured, is that why You-Know-Who's looking for' –

'Hermione saw it' said Arthur sorrowfully, tears building up in his eyes as Molly shook in his arms.

Ron started in horror and gripped Hermione's arms, looking for confirmation in her eyes of what he knew could not be true. Her lower lip quivered and she fell back onto his shoulder as Ron's world fell apart.

'No' he mumbled, pained, as the hands that had been rubbing Hermione's back went limp. 'No, no, this is all wrong…'

'Ron, I'm so sorry' cried Mrs. Weasley.

'No! I'm telling you, he's not dead!' yelled Ron, screaming at the room at large before settling his eyes stubbornly onto Hermione's face. 'This is Harry we're talking about! He wouldn't just – why are you saying this?!'

'Ron' said George in a hoarse voice, as Hagrid started wailing into his handkerchief.

'It's not true' Ron muttered hysterically, stepping away from Hermione to pace the room. 'We've just missed something, that's all. Maybe whatever was in the snitch, or' –

Tears were streaming down Hermione's face but Ron would not believe it. Not when the last thing he'd said to Harry was some crack about his family.

'You were wearing the locket, Ron, you weren't yourself' –

'It's not about that!' denied Ron furiously, but the catch in his throat betrayed him. 'I'm telling you, Harry always pulls something out of the bag at the last minute, he's going to show up here with – a plan, or – '

Just as Ron had pointed wildly at the front door, there was a thunderous knock and then complete silence as the room's occupants stilled in shock.

'No one else knows we're here' whispered Bill at the others' questioning looks. Without waiting another second, Ron rushed to the door and pulled it open, ignoring the warning voices behind him.

But it was not Harry standing outside. Instead, Ron found himself face to face with his old potion's professor, his pale skin glowing eerily in the light of the living room.

Ron raised his wand furiously to send a stunner at the traitor while Snape watched him with calm disdain. 'Relax, Weasley. I'm not here to murder anyone.'

'Well then why are you here?' growled Ron as his dad and Lupin joined him in the doorway.

'I would have thought that was obvious' said Snape. 'I'm here to see Potter'.

'That's sick' snarled Ron, gripping his wand threateningly.

'Step aside, Ron' said Arthur, trying to push his youngest son out of the way.

'Get tha' traitor out o' here!' bellowed Hagrid from behind them.

'He knows bloody well what happened and he's here to gloat!' snapped Ron, not willing to take his eyes off Snape's calm façade. 'He's wanted Harry dead for years'.

'Whatever foolish impression you are under, Weasley, I assure you that Potter is not dead'.

Ron looked across at Hermione's face and thought he could see the same desperate hope that he was feeling, but for her sake he pushed it down.

'Hermione was there' he said in a scathing voice. 'She saw your _Master_ use the Killing Curse'.

'The Dark Lord is under the same impression' said Snape. 'But as we all know, Potter's arrogance has led him to flaunt the rules of magic more than once before'.

'How can you stand there and insult Harry, Severus?' growled Remus furiously on Ron's right, and for a moment he could see elements of the wolf in his quiet former professor. 'Dumbledore trusted you'.

'That's why I'm here' said Snape, looking uncharacteristically strained. 'How do you think I got through the Fidelius, Lupin?' Remus looked doubtfully back at Bill. 'Dumbledore gave me all of the addresses of the key order members in case I needed to get in contact with you'.

'And why haven't you attacked before now?' asked Mr. Weasley suspiciously.

'Because I'm on your side' answered Snape, looking revolted at the prospect of having to prove himself to them.

'How stupid do you think we are?' laughed Ron humourlessly.

'No more stupid than you proved yourself to be in potions, I hope, or we are doomed already' sneered Snape. 'I have no wand, Lupin, and the fact that a hundred Death Eaters haven't barged in here yet is surely proof enough that I haven't betrayed Dumbledore's trust. So are you going to listen to me or not?'

'That depends on what you've got to say to us, Severus' said Remus, with doubt flickering in his eyes. Looking as if he was going against his better judgement, he made a movement with his wand for Snape to enter. The hated Headmaster moved forward into the room so that he was surrounded on all sides by unfriendly faces.

'I have to speak with Weasley and Granger alone'.


End file.
